


my heart's on fire for you

by orphan_account



Series: love in the dark [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Mentions of Death, Sharing a Bed, Sleepovers, being in love, jaemin has a nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24118078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: And this is what he came back for: lazy early mornings huddled under the duvet to fend off the mid-autumn chill, watching the sunlight filter through Mark's half open-blinds and land on his guitar, his bedroom swimming in gold.— A prequel to "a penny for your thoughts"
Relationships: Mark Lee/Na Jaemin
Series: love in the dark [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1734400
Kudos: 38





	my heart's on fire for you

**Author's Note:**

> i really think this au ended up running away from me... anyway i hope you like it :)

Fire. A lot of fire. Jaemin’s never seen this much fire before in his life before, not as if that really counts for anything considering he never made it past eighteen.

There’s fire, and pieces of the roof are falling in front of him, sheets of metal crashing down on the other passengers, all of them nearly mangled beyond recognition in front of him.

And suddenly, the bus is filled with water. This is a dream. There was no water when he’d died, only the smell of burning. Mark is here now, but the longer Jaemin looks at his face, the more it goes out of focus. Was his hair brown? Black? He opens his mouth and it’s Renjun’s voice that speaks to him: “Magic is like chess. Once you make a move, you can’t take it back. Not easily.”

His voice is distorted through the water, bubbles escaping from Mark’s lips as they move. “The world likes balance, and I’ve never done this before so I don’t know what will happen. Okay?”

Jaemin feels himself nod once, twice, before Mark blinks in front of him and explodes into bubbles, dissolving into the water before everything goes black.

Jaemin sits up suddenly, body covered in a thin layer of cold sweat he didn’t even know he could produce since he’d died, and gets whiplash from snapping his neck forward so quickly. His head spins, but it's okay because Mark is still beside him, solid and warm, blood and flesh like he’s supposed to be, buried in the duvet.

A sleepover, he’d suggested the night before, because his graduation trip had gone so fucking badly, and _hyung, you owe me one for the capo and strings I bought you before I left_. Mark had softened easily, weak in the face of Na Jaemin’s pouts, and agreed with an easy smile before offering to hold it at his own house.

His mom had already prepared dinner for them when Jaemin showed up at the door, nothing but a backpack in hand. Heaping portions of _samgyetang_ , large _pajeon_ and various side dishes covered the dining table in their kitchen. Food doesn’t taste the same, not anymore, but Jaemin still finished a bowl of rice with his soup because Mrs. Lee’s cooking was and always has been amazing.

He'd watched Mark wolf down his share and clear a whole _pajeon_ on his own. "Don't eat so fast," he had scolded, no real bite to his words, Mark barely glancing at him with his large round eyes before returning his attention to the pancake he had been battling with. They thanked his mom hurriedly and ditched their dishes in the sink before they darted outside the apartment building to sit on the curb (Mark) and roll around on Mark’s skateboard (Jaemin).

Mark had complained the whole time, calling out different variations on the phrases, “Jaemin-ah!", "Be careful," and "Don’t get hurt!”

"Hyung!" Jaemin had yelled back, unnecessarily loud, his words floating away with the autumn leaves in the evening breeze. "Don't worry so much about me! I'm healed, remember!"

The lustre in Mark's eyes when he got up from his seat to hold Jaemin by the waist and help him balance hadn’t gone unnoticed by Jaemin. He wanted to kiss the other boy right then and there, but instead, wrapped his arms around Mark’s shoulders and pushed off from the skateboard, toppling the two of them onto the lawn.

The two of them stretched the evening out for as long as they could. They lay on the grass, damp against their backs and skateboard long forgotten, watching the sky pass by for about an hour before the sun dipped below cotton candy clouds, pink streaks in the sky the sign of an unexpectedly temperate day tomorrow, despite the chill of a mid-November evening.

Mark had gotten up first and tugged at Jaemin’s arm. “Get up,” he told him. “You’ll get sick,” his voice wheedling as Jaemin laughed at him and leaned back down on the grass with his weight to drag Mark back down with him.

Jaemin kissed him on the elevator when they got back inside, lifting the skateboard from Mark’s hands so he could curl his fingers around his waist. His cheeks were pink and chilled from the outside cold. When they made it back to Mark’s floor, Jaemin’s lips matched the cherry red dusting the tips of Mark’s ears and nose.

They made a beeline for Mark's bedroom when they got back, shucking their shoes on the doormat. Jaemin had insisted on lining them up neatly by the shoe rack. "You're a big mess, hyung." 

They made it to Mark's room with minimal injury (Jaemin called him gross just once, an injury to Mark's ego _only,_ if anything). Mark had left to wash up while Jaemin lifted the big bag of gummies from Mark’s desk before he settled on the side of his bed.

“You’re going to get sick,” Jaemin had said through a mouthful of melon flavoured candy when Mark came back with a towel around his neck, nodding his head towards Mark’s hair, damp from showering.

“And you’re going to get cavities,” Mark had retaliated, picking up his guitar with one hand, other hand searching for the pick inside its open stomach.

Jaemin had shifted closer on the bed until he was next to where Mark was perched, chin hooked over Mark’s shoulder. The pads of Mark’s fingers are thick, he observed, the fingernails on his right hand slightly longer than the closely trimmed ones on his left hand. “I’ll brush my teeth before I sleep," Jaemin said idly, closing his eyes and taking in the smell of Mark's freshly washed hair. "I'm not gross."

They'd stayed like that for a couple of hours, the soft sound of guitar filling Mark's small bedroom as Jaemin scrolled through his phone. Mark had fallen asleep first, guitar propped up dangerously in his hands. It took Jaemin a full five minutes to pry it from his grip, wary of waking the other boy, before he pushed him under the blanket properly.

Only then was Jaemin free to take a shower, careful to remove his ring only as he washed up, before trying hard to sidestep the creaking of Mark's bedroom door as he entered the room again.

Jaemin's been having nightmares for a while now, pleasant dreams few and far in between the scarier ones. Most of them have to do with fire and pieces of metal slamming to the ground, flashbacks to the day he died. Never before has Mark shown up in them. But it doesn't matter now, now that Jaemin can see him lying next to him, thin eyelashes fanning over his cheekbone, chest rising and falling steadily in his sleep.

He's so beautiful, Jaemin notices, and this prompts a laugh in his head, because when does he not make that same observation? He has to bite back the urge to stretch his hand out and brush Mark's bangs back, his black hair curling almost delicately over his forehead. 

He looks peaceful, like a child again: the same kid Jaemin remembered to be so much cooler than him, a year older and wiser. He really is older and wiser now, the lines on his forehead growing more noticeable from how often Mark knits his forehead in concentration, whether it's because of songwriting, or Jaemin, or a difficult physics question.

The birds are awake, tittering their song from outside, and the sun is slowly starting to peek through the blinds, shedding light in stripes across the duvet. Mark stirs from next to him, turning once, twice, three times before stretching his arms forward and rubbing his eyes with his fist. 

Light pools like gold in the corners of the room and reflects on Mark's face, making his skin look like it's on fire where the sun touches it. His cheeks are rosy from a warm sleep. Now that Mark is awake, the threat of being woken gone, Jaemin reaches out to brush Mark's hair from his face, but Mark tugs him down to kiss him on the forehead instead. "You're up so early."

Jaemin laughs, a little breathless from the abrupt kiss. "It's only like six," he whines, leaning down to fit his neck into the space between Mark's shoulder and neck. "Don't you get up this early for school?"

Mark grins, voice still thick with sleep when he replies, "There's no school anymore. Remember? It's break time for you. We don't need to be awake, Jaemin."

Jaemin hums into Mark's neck, staying silent. He smells good, like ginger shampoo and something like home.

Mark sits up, moving Jaemin off of him until they're both facing each other. "Was it another nightmare?" he questions. His large eyes are filled with concern as he looks at the younger.

The sky is a blue-grey outside, characteristic of late fall, and the sun casts morning light onto Mark's guitar where it sits on its stand in the corner of the room. "It's not a big deal," Jaemin says, fiddling with the ring on his finger. "It's just the same dream again." He chuckles nervously, low in his throat. "It's not worse than when I died."

Mark pulls him in by the hand, planting a soft kiss on his ring, and then pulls Jaemin in to kiss him properly. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" Mark says against his lips, and Jaemin nods before reaching in for another. 

Jaemin's chest feels tight, head warm like it's filled with cotton, but Mark's hands are gentle against his waist, holding him tight against him as he chases after his mouth. "We have all the time in the world, now, hyung," he breathes when Mark's lips migrate to his neck, gently kissing down to his collarbone. It's true, they do: summer became fall and against all odds they're still together, even if they lost a few months when Jaemin was in the hospital.

Mark stops, snaking his hands up Jaemin's shirt, a small smirk on his face. "Is _that_ your way of telling me to go slow?" and Jaemin _giggles,_ actually fucking giggles, ticklish against the feeling of Mark's warm hands against his bare stomach.

The sun is up and the birds are chirping, golden sunlight showering Mark's bedroom through the half-open blinds, and they have no reason to rush. Jaemin's heart hurts, but in a good way, warmth filling him at the sight of Mark on top of him. "I love you," Jaemin whispers, surprised with himself and the words leaving his tongue, but it's too late to take them back now.

Mark's eyes go wide, large and filled with astonishment. He props himself up on his elbows to hover over Jaemin, and Jaemin clears his throat hesitantly before he repeats his words, sure of himself: "I love y—"

Mark cuts him off, leaning down to kiss him slow and hard. His hands find their way back up Jaemin's shirt, gripping tightly against his back and Jaemin whines quietly, opening his mouth slightly. Mark gently scrapes his teeth against Jaemin's bottom lip and Jaemin shivers, threading his fingers through Mark's hair, tugging gently at the roots.

When they part, saliva is smeared against the side of Mark's mouth and Jaemin laughs, reaching up to wipe it off with his thumb. "I love you too," Mark says, breathless. "So much."

His eyes are wide, hair messy, and Jaemin wants to make it messier; he wants to leave marks on his collarbone and tell the world that Mark Lee is his and no one else's. 

The room is illuminated with the sun's light and even the dust floating in the air glows under its rays. Mark's face is flushed when he sits up, resting his weight against Jaemin's thighs to pick his glasses up from his nightstand. The red of his cheeks matches the red of the ratty old Vancouver t-shirt he's wearing, and Jaemin's heart is swelling with adoration for the boy in front of him.

Mark grins wide, expression kind of dopey and Jaemin can't help but reach forward to adjust his glasses a little. "Now go brush your teeth," Jaemin snorts before planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You taste gross."

Mark pulls a face, swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the ground. "You taste worse," he pokes back in jest, eyes bright. 

"I'd rather we both taste like toothpaste," Jaemin sticks his tongue out, pushing Mark forward with a pat on the butt. "Minty fresh. Be fast." He gets up from the bed himself, pinching Mark's waist as he passes him. "We don't have all day."

Mark snorts, chasing after Jaemin. "We have a whole lifetime now," he promises as he picks Jaemin up by the middle, ignoring his protesting laughter. 

"Forever is in our hands."

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos nd a comment if u liked it and i will love u until the day i die ! 
> 
> come talk 2 me on [twitter](http://www.twitter.com/jwloveclub)


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